


make america green again

by catpoop



Series: peter englert goes grocery shopping [2]
Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Canon Universe, Crack, Gen, One Shot, Poor Sam, Recreational Drug Use, peter is verbally abusive and like 200 percent stalker vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 13:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21639766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catpoop/pseuds/catpoop
Summary: Sam receives another request from Peter Englert.[URGENT] MARIJUANA!!Make it quick,the message reads, and he rolls his eyes.
Relationships: Sam Porter Bridges & Higgs Monaghan
Series: peter englert goes grocery shopping [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559998
Comments: 7
Kudos: 55





	make america green again

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [Make America Green Again 使美国再次变绿](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26331022) by [Hiljatuuli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiljatuuli/pseuds/Hiljatuuli)

> inspired by this: [weeds](https://twitter.com/CorndogNinja/status/1194862794203467776?s=19)

Peter Englert’s name has become a familiar fixture in Sam’s inbox. He’s used to the insane requests and even stranger emails, and so this new order shouldn’t come as a surprise. Nonetheless, it catches him off-guard, and he blinks furiously for a long second or two before rereading the message.

[URGENT] MARIJUANA!! – Peter Englert  
Delivery Time Limit: 10min

It’s 4am. In the morning.

Sam blinks again, slowly processing the order instructions. He has to pick up the fifteen kilogram container from a bunker near where the Timefall Farm is, and deliver it to Lake Knot West.

The time of day, the bizarre request, and the honeyed words littering Englert’s email do not make for a good combination, and Sam reluctantly leaves his private room. He clambers into a truck with just a little too much aggression, starts the engine with more of a punch than a tap to the interface, and rumbles off down the road. He might as well take his time to get to the farm, because the journey after that is going to be at near the speed of light if he wants to arrive at Englert’s bunker in time.

The farmer that is supplying his cargo doesn’t make an appearance, and Sam cradles the box in both hands for a silent moment. _’Fifteen kilograms…’_ There is the slightest urge to peel back the security tape and open the box to see what fifteen kilograms of marijuana looks like, but he stops himself. 

The box straps onto his back in one quick motion, then Sam is jogging back out to the truck. After all, the timer’s already begun to count down.

As it turns out, ten minutes of urgent driving is enough of a mental strain to block out all the possible thoughts he could be having about Peter Englert, and Sam sprints to his destination feeling like he’s run a marathon. His truck probably feels the same. It charges sluggishly in the background as he submits the order and sees the countdown freeze.

[00:00:01]

He shakes his head, and startles when Peter Englert appears from behind him. 

“Hey! You got the weed! I was welcoming you in out there, did you not notice?”

Sam shakes his head once more. He’d been too busy trying to beat the world record for sprinting. 

Peter grins greedily, then walks back to the main holographic projector behind the access terminal. “Well, let’s see how it is.” An expectant silence, during which Sam can see him lean over to survey the cargo, then hears a loud exhale.

Peter straightens up, to stare him in the eyes. “Does that fucking say 1% percent damage, or are my eyes deceiving me?”

Sam doesn’t answer. That’s… _good_, he reasons, despite the man’s tone. An S grade, at least. He wonders for a split-second if the man is going to praise him for the delivery. The latest email had been full of hearts and likes, and if there had also been a mention about how good Sam’s butt looks when he’s in the shower, he’s going to ignore it. Deadman had demonstrated the privacy of the bathroom facilities perfectly well. 

There’s no reason for a chill to run up Sam’s spine upon reading the message. He swallows warily, and watches as Peter gesticulates in a dramatic fashion.

“Samuel Porter Bridges…” he says slowly, closing his eyes for a second. They reopen to reveal nothing but irritation. “My dear Sammy boy… I had faith in you, y’know? Thought you’d be better than this. You fucking damaged my cargo, and you call yourself the Great Deliverer?”

_‘I don’t,’_ Sam thinks in bewilderment.

Peter purses his lips. “Well, at least you fuckin’ got here within the deadline, I’ll give you that. Nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds is nothing to brag about, though.” He crosses his arms, shoots Sam another glare, and stalks out of view.

Sam almost misses the obsessive, stalkerish, overwhelmingly _positive_ messages. He is just debating how to block future communications from Peter Englert when the man himself reappears.

He fiddles with what looks like a blunt, and idly lights it as Sam stands there, waiting. Peter takes a long drag and exhales pixellated smoke.

“Oh, I have to admit that’s nice,” he says to himself, then takes another drag. It appears to take a moment for him to remember Sam’s presence. “Oh yeah. Don’t think you’re off the hook just yet, Samuel!”

The connection fizzles out, and the much more soothing sound of his performance evaluation fills the small space. _‘S grade,’_ Sam notes with pride. For a ridiculous, time-limited delivery at 4am, he thinks he completed the job excellently.

Just as he’s about to read through the final details of the eval, Peter reappears. He has a vacant smile on his face.

“Heyy… Sam. You wanna smoke? I’ve got fifteen kilos of the stuff.”

‘_I know,’_ Sam thinks. ‘_I delivered it to you personally.’_ He shakes his head at the virtual blunt extended to him in an offer of… friendship? He can’t think of someone he’d want to be friends with less. Higgs, maybe.

“No thanks.”

“Fuck you, Sam.” Peter grins, returning the blunt to his mouth. The projector switches itself off.

**Author's Note:**

> literally sam deserves so much for his hell of a job
> 
> kudos & comments r hella appreciated!
> 
> [tumblr](https://swummeng-geys.tumblr.com)  
[twitter](https://twitter.com/hashtag_yikes)


End file.
